


The 'Thank You' Game

by St0rmy



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask, The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time
Genre: But he's trying, Exactly two (2) suggestive lines, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Link did not get the braincell today, Nothing explicit, Playful idiots, Short One Shot, They're In Love Your Honor, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, i rest my case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25831144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/St0rmy/pseuds/St0rmy
Summary: Sure, Link had been kissed before, but Malon's kiss wasn’t like the others. It was something honest and sweet, stolen in the moments between chores when she was sure no one was looking, at first disguised as a ‘thank you’ for some inconsequential kindness.After that, it became a bit of a game.
Relationships: Link/Malon (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 119





	The 'Thank You' Game

Link knew that the sense of smell was very intimately linked to memory. No one ever told him that; it was something he’d learned on his own. The smoky aroma of a campfire reminded him of sleepily leaning against Saria while they listened to Mido telling scary stories. The sharp smell of ozone took him back to the windmill at Kakariko Village where he’d first played the Song of Storms. The earthy scent of wet soil brought to mind memories of the callous wind whipping across Lake Hylia. The sweet smell of fresh hay that tickled his nose and always made him sneeze was indelibly linked to memories of Malon. 

Throughout his years of travel and adventure, Lon Lon Ranch was an island of warmth and familiarity amidst a sea of uncertainty and darkness. It was a place where he was unconditionally welcome, moreso even than his own home in the Kokiri Forest. Over time, Link became acutely aware of Malon and Talon’s unwavering hospitality to him. He sought to repay them by spending time helping out around the farm every chance he could. 

Well, perhaps it wasn’t _all_ about repaying kindness. 

As they aged, Link began to feel a strange draw toward Malon. He had always counted her among his friends, and the more time they spent together, the more he _wanted_ to spend time with her. He would often find himself distracted from chores by her singing, or her lilting laughter, or even by her simply walking past. Even when apart, he was preoccupied with memories of her. He’d missed many a turn on the trail up Death Mountain that way; thankfully, none of those missteps had been permanently damaging. It was a puzzling phenomenon - or at least it had been until the afternoon she’d kissed him. 

Sure, Link had been kissed before, but her kiss wasn’t like the others. Hers wasn’t the formal cheek kissing from Princess Zelda, nor was it the demanding kisses wrought upon him by Ruto. It was something honest and sweet, stolen in the moments between chores, disguised as a ‘thank you’ for a small kindness. It wasn’t hard for him to lift the heavy pail of milk she struggled with, but feeling the brush of her lips against his cheek made his arms feel suddenly weak. In his addled state, he had sloshed a good bit of milk onto the floor, and Malon laughed heartily at that. 

She thought it significantly less funny, however, when he surprised her with a quick ‘thank you’ for the cool drink she’d brought to him as he split logs in the blazing sun. He had to catch her as she tripped over her own skirts, and he chuckled at the redness of her ears.

After that, it became a bit of a game. 

When Link was having trouble sleeping again and had finished milking the entire barn before sunrise, she thanked him quickly as he was busy emptying the last bucket into the holding tank.

When Malon spared him the responsibility of tending to the cuccos for the twelfth morning in a row, he thanked her slyly as she precariously balanced fifteen eggs in her apron. 

When a brisk summer breeze stirred up in the pasture and claimed her favorite scarf, Link was swiftly rewarded with her thanks upon its safe return.

When Malon leaned in a little too close to set a plate of eggs and pancakes in front of him, he thanked her briskly before tucking in to his breakfast. 

_That one_ nearly got him in trouble. She had straightened up stiffly, her cheeks and ears turning a hot shade of pink. She stared down at Link with wide eyes, jerking her head toward the kitchen where Talon poured his morning coffee, completely oblivious to the affair. 

Link hadn’t realized that this was a game her father shouldn’t know that they played.

_But that only made it more fun._

And so their game continued for a while, each trying to outsmart or out-surprise or out-embarrass the other at very inopportune times. They gradually became more in tune with the others’ schemes and sought to outwit each other at every turn. 

He usually picked up on the subtle shift in her posture. When she leaned in to thank him for passing her a dish cloth in the kitchen, she’d ended up thanking a wooden spatula instead. 

Malon usually caught the devilish look in his eye. When he tried to thank her for helping him lead in the horses one evening, he’d ended up thanking Epona right on the nose - and when she tossed her head in response, his cheek was swollen for nearly two weeks. 

Link didn’t mind. Upping the difficulty only made each of his victories that much sweeter. 

It was all fun and games, though, until the morning when they finished sweeping the barn aisle together and both went in for thanks at the same time. They both refrained from eye contact until the last possible second to avoid being caught early, but by the time their eyes did meet it was too late. It was an innocent brush of the lips, barely longer than a second. They jolted apart in surprise, and Link was confused by the array of feelings that abruptly bubbled up: the elation of victory, the surprise of being caught off-guard, the curiosity of _wait-let’s-try-that-again-I-wasn’t-ready…_

Malon stood with a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide, the reddest blush he’d ever seen coloring her cheeks. For a split second, he thought she was going to whale on him with her broom. 

And so he’d laughed to try and defuse the situation. “What’s wrong? It’s just a game.” 

But then she turned, and her broom hit the floor with a clatter, and she was gone before he could say anything to stop her. 

Link spent the rest of that day under a cloud of bad luck. It took three swings of his axe before he managed to split the log he was chopping, and the log fell off of its stand with each frustrated attempt. He cursed as the seam on the bag of feed he hefted over his shoulder split, promptly dumping its contents all over both himself and the floor. He swore he hadn’t even been _looking_ at the cucco that decided he was a threat and initiated a drawn-out chase across the ranch. Try as he might, he couldn’t catch any of the horses out in the field despite the threatening rumble of an incoming summer storm. 

Giving up, Link jogged into the barn as the first few raindrops began picking up their pace. He shook out his damp hair as he walked down the aisle, muttering in stubborn frustration. 

“You don’t need to worry about them.” Malon’s voice from above startled him. Link looked up to see her sitting in the hayloft, smiling down at him. “They have a run-in shed out there, they’ll stay dry.” 

“Yeah, but that’s not much protection.” He was quietly relieved that she didn’t seem mad at him. He climbed up the ladder to sit next to her in the loft. “I was just trying to bring them inside where they’ll be drier.” 

“They don’t understand why you’re trying to catch them.” Malon avoided his gaze, picking two thin stalks of hay out of the pile. “You can’t just lead them along any which way and expect them to go willingly. They enjoy their freedom.” 

“Well I’m not leading them anywhere they wouldn’t want to go.” Link huffed as he laid back heavily into the hay. The movement sent a puff of dust into the air, and he promptly sneezed.

“Well, right, but…” Malon pursed her lips, carefully choosing her words. “They have to trust that you have their best interests at heart.” 

“Well, why wouldn’t I?” Link folded his arms behind his head, wincing as sharp stalks poked against his forearms. “I’ve never been anything but kind to them.” 

Malon quietly began twisting the two stalks of hay together. 

“I spend lots of time making sure they’re fed and brushed, I change their water every day, I stayed up with that new mare when she was colicking the other night, I tried to learn how to trim hooves but that turned out to be _really_ _hard_ \--”

“Link.” Malon’s tone cut through his thoughts. Link regarded her quietly out of the corner of his eye. He hadn’t seen her since that morning, and now she seemed uncharacteristically engrossed with the two pieces of hay she was twisting. “That isn’t what I mean.”

He sat up slowly at the shift in her demeanor. She finally turned to him, and he was unpleasantly surprised by the look in her eyes. She looked scared. 

_She looked like she was ready to get hurt._

“Is this all just a game to you?”

He blinked owlishly, and it took several seconds for the pieces of that puzzling phenomenon to all fall into place. All of the distraction and longing, every blush and giggle and leap of the pulse, the desire to follow her about the ranch like a lost puppy, suddenly began making sense.

Link reached out to pluck the woven stalks from her trembling fingers.

“Malon, just because I think something is fun doesn’t mean I can’t take it seriously.” 

And that was how he came to associate the smell of hay with Malon: sitting side-by-side in the hayloft, listening to the rain lashing against the sides of the barn, forgetting to breathe as timid lips met between them. They would end up spending many a stolen moment in the loft over time, some of those moments more innocent than others, but this was the one he would remember most fondly for the rest of his life. 

After that, they stopped worrying about making sure no one was watching. Link thanked her openly in the kitchen after dinner for mending the hole in his tunic. She thanked him sweetly on the porch beneath the stars when he presented her with a jar of fireflies to set on her windowsill. What was even better, he learned, was that there were a whole lot more than just ‘thank you’ kisses to be shared.

There were _I’m-sorry-I-ate-the-last-snack_ kisses, when her mouth tasted like a frown, but slowly became a smile the longer he kept at it. 

There were _I-earned-that-victory-and-you-know-it_ kisses, softening his pout when she soundly beat him on a turn about the pasture.

There were _you’re-safe-now_ kisses that she pressed into his hairline as he buried his face into her after a terrible dream. 

There were _you-need-to-take-better-care-of-yourself_ kisses that sealed every bandage she placed on his open wounds.

There were _I’m-nervous-as-hell-but-I-meant-every-word_ kisses shared beneath a canopy of flowers while a small group of friends and family cheered.

There were _don’t-you-dare-stop_ kisses, smudged against his collarbone as her fingers tangled in his hair, encouraging him to push past the limits of his stamina. 

There were _I-don’t-know-when-I’ll-be-home_ kisses at the gate as he set out on an adventure, when they would linger just a little too long, followed by the _oh-just-one-more_ …

There were _goddess-I-thought-I’d-never-see-you-again_ kisses, his cheeks cupped in her hands as he lifted her off of her feet.

Try as he might, Link could never recall each and every one of those kisses. But sometimes in his travels he would catch a whiff of the sweet scent of hay and be back in that loft on the day when he won the thank-you game, feeling Malon’s soft hair running through his fingers as they shared their first _I-love-you_ kiss. 

And then, he would sneeze.


End file.
